My earliest memory of reading a novel wasn't in school. It was a borrowed copy of The Secret Seven, hidden under my desk while my teacher droned on about the grammatical functions of adverbs.
I remember thinking: Why can't school feel like this?
Fast forward a few years, and I'm in Senior Secondary School, staring at a photocopied handout of a Shakespearean sonnet. The joy I once felt has been replaced by dread. The question isn't "What does this poem make you feel?" The question is "What literary devices can you identify for two marks?"
The difference between those two experiences is the difference between reading as a gift and reading as a chore. And that difference, I have come to believe, is why millions of Nigerian students walk away from books the moment they write their last paper.
The Problem Isn't Nigerian Children. It's the Exam Machine.
Let me tell you about Fatima.
Fatima is 15 years old. She goes to a public secondary school in Kano. She has WAEC and NECO looming over her head like a storm cloud. Her English teacher has given her a list of prescribed texts: Antony and Cleopatra, To Kill a Mockingbird, and a selection of poems she must memorize.
Fatima reads them. She memorizes quotations. She practices past questions. She does everything she is told.
But here is the question I want you to sit with: Has Fatima ever been asked what she wants to read?
The answer is no. Because the Nigerian curriculum does not care about what Fatima wants to read. It cares about what WAEC will test.
And that is the heart of the problem.
The WAEC Syllabus: A Reading List That Reads Like a Prison Sentence
Let me be clear: WAEC and NECO serve an important purpose. They are meant to ensure that students across West Africa meet a minimum standard. But somewhere along the way, the purpose shifted from learning to passing.
The WAEC English Language syllabus explicitly states that its objective is "to test the different basic skills of communicating in English using the mediums of speech and writing". That sounds reasonable. But look closer at what students are asked to do: comprehension, summary, vocabulary, lexis and structure, listening comprehension, and—crucially—recognition of different aspects of spoken English.
Nowhere does it say encourage a lifelong love of reading. Nowhere does it say allow students to choose their own books. Nowhere does it even whisper the phrase "reading for pleasure."
The Literature-in-English syllabus is even more revealing. Students are given a fixed list of texts that change every five years or so. For the 2026–2030 cycle, that includes Antony and Cleopatra (Shakespeare), To Kill a Mockingbird, and So the Path Does Not Die, along with a rigid list of African and non-African poetry.
These are not bad books. They are classics for a reason. But the problem is not the books themselves. The problem is the way they are taught.
According to the syllabus, students must focus on "the exact texts, literary devices, genres, themes, and skills WAEC will test". The syllabus is described as a "roadmap" to the examination hall. The goal is not understanding. The goal is extracting marks.
This is not reading. This is literary archaeology—digging through a text not because it moves you, but because you are looking for artifacts to present to an examiner.
And the research is clear: this approach kills the desire to read.
The Science: When You Read for Exams, You Stop Reading for You
A study by the University of East Anglia found that reading a text with an "overt focus on passing an exam can actually put pupils off reading in their own time". The researchers discovered that analysis of a novel distracted students from engaging with the story and its characters. The lack of choice in selecting the set text also limited enthusiasm.
Think about that for a moment. The very act of studying a text for an exam can make you dislike that text. Even texts you might have loved otherwise.
I have spoken to dozens of Nigerian adults who tell me the same story: "I used to love reading, but school killed it."
This is not an accident. This is a design flaw.
The Nigerian curriculum treats reading as a means to an end—passing WAEC and NECO. Finnish schools treat reading as an end in itself—a source of joy, discovery, and connection.
What Finland Teaches Us: No Exams, No Fear, Just Books
Let me introduce you to Aino.
Aino is also 15 years old. She lives in Helsinki, Finland. She goes to school for fewer hours each day than Fatima does. She has almost no homework. And she has never taken a standardized exam in her life.
Here is the mind-blowing truth about Finland's education system: There are no national tests for pupils in basic education. The only nationwide test is the matriculation examination at the end of high school.
No WAEC. No NECO. No JAMB. No endless mock exams. No past questions. No cramming.
Instead, Finnish teachers assess their students based on curriculum objectives. The focus is on learning, not testing. The curriculum encourages critical thinking, creativity, cooperation, and lifelong learning—rather than memorization or strict adherence to exams.
And the results? Finnish students consistently rank among the top performers in international reading assessments, including PISA. In 2018, 90% of Finnish students aged 15 achieved a minimum level of competence in reading—much higher than the OECD average of 67%.
Let me repeat that: 90% of Finnish teenagers are competent readers. Without the pressure of high-stakes exams.
But here is the part that should make every Nigerian educator sit up and pay attention. In Finnish schools, reading is not a subject you are tested on. It is a practice you are invited into. The national curriculum for Mother Tongue and Literature has a clear objective: "for students to become active and responsible communicators and readers".
Note the words: active, responsible, readers.
Not compliant, memorizing, examinees. Readers.
A Tale of Two Students
Let me draw a clearer comparison.
Which student do you think grows up to be an adult who reads for pleasure?
Which student do you think associates books with stress, anxiety, and failure?
The Real Cost: A Generation That Reads Only When Forced
The consequences of this exam-focused system are not abstract. They are playing out in Nigerian classrooms every day.
A 2014 study titled "Poor Attitude to Reading for Pleasure and Its Implications on Acquisition of Language Skills and Academic Achievements: The Case of Students of Secondary Schools in Nigeria" found that poor reading habits lead to "poor communicative competence, poor reading comprehension, lack of creative power, parochial knowledge and poor academic achievement".
The study concluded that reading for pleasure—recreational reading—is "one of the surest ways of attaining a high level of competence in language skills and excelling in academic achievement".
In other words: The best way to do well on exams is to read for pleasure. But our exam-focused system actively discourages pleasure reading.
This is the Nigerian paradox.
We want students to pass WAEC and NECO. So we force them to read prescribed texts. The pressure makes them hate reading. Because they hate reading, they read less. Because they read less, they perform poorly on exams. And because they perform poorly, we push even harder.
It is a cycle of failure disguised as discipline.
Kenya's Reading Diary: A Simple Idea That Works
Here is the good news: There is a better way. And we do not have to look as far as Finland to find it.
Kenya has introduced a "reading diary" system as part of its Competency-Based Curriculum (CBC). Students track what they read, reflect on it, and share their thoughts with classmates. The curriculum has specific content frameworks for Kenyan literature across multiple genres, including memoirs, autobiographies, poetry, novels, short stories, and plays.
The reading diary is a brilliant innovation because it transforms reading from a solitary, exam-driven task into a social, reflective activity. It also creates gentle accountability: when a teacher asks about your reading diary, you are motivated to keep reading—not because you will be punished, but because you want to have something to share.
This is not a complicated solution. It does not require billions of naira. It requires a shift in mindset: from reading as a test to reading as a practice.
What Can We Do? Five Changes That Would Transform Nigerian Reading Culture
The problem is clear. The question now is: What do we do about it?
Here are five changes that would begin to repair the damage.
1. Decouple Reading from Examination Pressure
The most important change is the hardest: we must stop using reading primarily as a testing tool. This does not mean abolishing exams. It means creating space for reading that is not tied to any grade, any test, any mark.
Imagine if Nigerian secondary schools set aside 30 minutes each day for silent, choice-based reading. No comprehension questions. No analysis. No marks. Just students reading whatever they want—novels, comics, magazines, newspapers, even blogs.
This practice, common in Finnish schools, has been shown to dramatically improve both reading skills and reading attitudes.
2. Introduce Reading Diaries (Learn from Kenya)
Kenya has shown that reading diaries work. Nigerian schools should adopt this practice immediately.
A reading diary is simple: a notebook where students record what they have read, what they thought about it, and what they would like to read next. Teachers read the diaries and respond with encouragement, not criticism. Over time, the diary becomes a conversation between student and teacher about the joy of reading.
3. Diversify the Curriculum and Allow Choice
The WAEC prescribed text list is too narrow and too rigid. Students should be given a wider selection of texts to choose from, including contemporary Nigerian literature, graphic novels, and non-fiction.
Research from the UK has shown that a "teach for the test" and "knowledge-rich" approach to the English curriculum has "worked against reading for pleasure". The solution is to "widen out" the curriculum so pupils are given a broader selection of texts.
Nigerian students should be reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Chinua Achebe (not just Things Fall Apart), contemporary Nigerian poets, and even well-written online content. The goal is to show them that reading is alive, diverse, and relevant to their lives.
4. Fund Libraries in Every School
You cannot build a reading culture without books. The Nigerian government must commit to funding a functional library in every public secondary school.
This does not require a grand building with marble floors. A simple room with shelves, chairs, good lighting, and a trained librarian is enough. What matters is that books are accessible, free, and inviting.
Finland boasts one of the highest library usage rates in the world, with free and easily accessible public libraries in both urban and rural areas. Reading is deeply embedded in everyday life because the infrastructure supports it.
Nigeria can do the same.
5. Train Teachers to Love Reading
The most important factor in any education system is the teacher. Nigerian teachers need training on how to encourage reading for pleasure, not just how to prepare students for exams.
Teachers who read are more likely to inspire students to read. A teacher who talks about books with genuine excitement creates a classroom culture where reading is valued. A teacher who sees reading only as a testable skill creates a classroom culture of dread.
We need to invest in teacher training that emphasizes pedagogy of pleasure—not just methodology of examination.
The School System Didn't Just Fail Reading. It Killed It.
I want to return to Fatima.
Fatima is 15 years old. She has spent years being told what to read, when to read it, and how to prove she read it. She has memorized quotations she does not understand. She has analyzed poems she did not enjoy. She has filled her head with facts that will leave her brain the moment she writes her last WAEC paper.
And then, one day, she graduates. She gets her certificate. And she never reads another book again.
This is not a failure of Fatima's character. This is a failure of her education.
The Finnish student, Aino, is different. She has never been forced to read anything she hated. She has been invited, encouraged, and supported. She associates books with comfort, discovery, and joy. She will read for the rest of her life—not because she has to, but because she wants to.
The difference between Fatima and Aino is not intelligence, not culture, not poverty. The difference is the curriculum.
Nigeria has a choice. We can continue to produce generations of students who pass exams but cannot read, who hold certificates but never hold books, who have been educated into illiteracy.
Or we can change.
We can reduce the exam pressure. We can introduce reading diaries. We can diversify the curriculum. We can fund libraries. We can train teachers.
We can stop treating reading like a chore and start treating it like what it has always been: a door to every other door.
The question is not whether Nigerian children can read. The question is whether our school system will stop killing their desire to.
Let's Talk
How many books did you read for pleasure last year? Not for school, not for work—for you.
Now think about how many books you would read if no one was grading you.
Drop your answer in the comments. Let's start a conversation about what we lost—and what we can reclaim.
This article is part of a series on Nigeria's reading crisis. Share this with a teacher, a student, or anyone who remembers what it felt like to read for the sheer joy of it.
Who is this writer?!😅 I love this article!
ReplyDeleteThis article really struck a nerve. I completely agree that the way literature is taught in our schools kills the joy of reading for so many students. The constant focus on identifying literary devices for exams just sucks the life out of the story. We need to let children fall in love with books, not force-feed them a syllabus.
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